


falling (in reverse)

by blamethenargless



Category: Runaways (Comics), Runaways (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/F, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Fluff, Inspired by The Last Five Years, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamethenargless/pseuds/blamethenargless
Summary: It's falling in reverse.Flying.orKarolina and Nico weren't together. And then they were. And then they weren't, again. Loosely based on The Last Five Years, in terms of storytelling.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So, first, as always, everything belongs to the creators.
> 
> Second, this is my first real Runaways fic, so go easy on me here.
> 
> Third, this isn't pre-written, so I don't know how frequent updates will be. However, they will be a lot longer than this first prologue part, which is just pretty much to set the scene.
> 
> And finally, enjoy!

It’s falling in reverse.

Flying.

It’s head in the clouds, heart on her sleeve, fingers skimming the sky _love_ . And she’s falling in reverse, falling up, falling into this tangled web of sideways glances and cheeks flushing pink and heart beating, beating, beating _out_ of her _chest_.

And Karolina can’t. Stop. Smiling.

It’s passing her in the corridor, and catching the scent of her perfume on the breeze that blows by. It’s hearing her name, _Nico!_ , and feeling a tightening in her chest, like a hook around her heart. It’s seeing her laugh from across the room, seeing a grin break across her face and light reach her eyes and she’s shaking with joy.

It’s wondering if Karolina could ever make her laugh like that. It’s wishing that she could. It’s hoping that she will.

It’s falling in reverse. Flying. Falling in love.

**—————**

It’s falling.

When she thinks of her, falling. Again and again and again.

They dated daysweeksmonthsyearslifetimes ago, and Nico ended it. And she was happy. And she still is.

Control. It’s all about control.

Nowadays, Karolina is barely an afterthought of an unconscious whisper, not even clinging on to the back of her mind. She has friends. She still has the others. Just not Karolina.

And that’s fine. She’s happy. She’s all but forgotten about Karolina, and Nico is _truly_ _happy_ with her life.

But still. Occasionally, she’ll hear her name. Occasionally, she’ll see a girl who has the same blonde hair, fair skin, soft features. Same eyes. Occasionally, she’ll step outside and the air just has _that feeling_ , like something’s going to happen. And maybe it will. But somehow, for some reason, all it does is make her think _Karolina_.

And it gets to her. And maybe she’s not so very happy after all.

When she thinks about Karolina, it’s falling. It doesn’t happen often. But it’s _falling_.


	2. chapter one: struck me in the chest/knocked out all my breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date, through Karolina's eyes.  
> One year post-breakup, through Nico's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin. Chapter title taken from Paper Mache Planes by Nova and the Experience (the song/band Nico listens to in this chapter).

Karolina is not in the mood for any of this.

She has a schedule, and it’s the same every Wednesday: Wake up at eight, work out for an hour, shower and get dressed--all by 9:30. Make breakfast and clean until 10, then get out the door and to school in time for her 10:30 class.

Gert likes to half-jokingly, half-seriously tell her off for waking up almost two hours before she really has to.  _ It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, Karolina,  _ she likes to say.  _ Give yourself more time to sleep. And take shorter showers. You waste water. _ Karolina’s vegan, though, so she thinks she’s pretty decent on the environmentally-friendly part. Plus, long showers are the fuel of her life.

But today, she overslept. Her clock is now blinking 9:44 at her in angry red, and she’s swearing her way through extracting herself from her tangled sheets. She has literally never overslept on a Wednesday, so she’s in alien territory here. 

The next thirty or so minutes pass in a blur of frantically trying to recalibrate her workout schedule in her head around the one she missed today, forgetting to check her weather app and having to change her outfit twice to match the temperature, overcooking her breakfast, and searching fruitlessly for her left sneaker. 

She also only gets to shower for ten minutes. Which should be a crime.

Finally, though,  _ finally _ , she gets herself out the door and into her car. The steering wheel is scary even after three  years of practice (and then some), and she still doesn’t know how to parallel-park, and it rained last night, so the roads are slick. She just cranks up the radio and hopes for the best.

The drive takes eighteen minutes, which means she has to listen to one more  _ yes-I-know-this-is-trashy-but-I-still-love-it _ pop song, and that she’s three minutes late to class. 

_ Wonderful _ .  _ At least the hallways are empty,  _ she thinks.

Except they’re not. 

There’s a girl sitting on a bench that’s placed randomly besides her classroom. She’s got on sunglasses and a pair of impressively high black wedge boots. And Karolina knows who she is. Because  _ of course _ it’s Nico--why would it be anyone else? That’s just the kind of day it is for her.  _ Of course _ Karolina runs into the girl she’s been pining over for about three months when she’s late for class and short a workout and still feeling like she could sleep for a hundred years and not be satisfied. That’s just the type of luck Karolina has.

She shoots Nico a smile, which quickly turns into a grimace, which quickly turns into a frown, and then a headache squeezes her temples like a vice, and she nearly trips, and then somehow, she’s in class—and then class has ended.

She packs up her books. She leaves the classroom. Nico’s not in the hallway anymore, and Karolina feels a sort of ridiculous sadness.

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket.

**gert: molly says you were late she saw you rushing to ur class thru a window**

**gert: what did i say about those showers dean**

karolina: shut up you literally don’t even go to NYU

karolina: molly shouldn’t text you in class go lecture her about education

karolina: also shouldn’t she focus on her freshman class and not the junior one next door

**gert: molly is doing very well in her class that she was /on time/ to**

**gert: so i’m not worried**

Karolina does not dignify that with a response. Instead, she consults her schedule (she’s only been a junior for a few weeks, and doesn’t yet have her schedule memorized), which tells her that she’s got about a half hour to grab a snack before she has to find her way back into a classroom.

New York City is a wonderful place. She has a strong craving for her favorite smoothie place, and since she’s already strayed from her schedule today, she decides to hop on the train and grab a smoothie in the time she has. Why not be wild?

The Grove Street station is just a few minute’s walk away from NYU, and from there, Lyfeping Smoothies a stop or two downtown. As she commutes, she listens to music. Gert always tells her to get into more underground stuff, or whatever, but Karolina doesn’t think something has to be good or have meaning for it to be enjoyable. Sometimes she indulges in a bit of angsty tear-jerker songs that leave a space between her ribs and an emptiness in her heart. But usually it’s pop anthems all the way down. They keep her happy. And that’s what’s important. Plus, Molly likes them, too, so she at least has another person on her side. And Chase is a sucker for a good Ariana Grande song.

At Lyfeping, she always gets the same thing. “Strawberry, banana, and mango smoothie, with coconut milk, please,” is her order as she hands over a few dollars she had crumpled in her back pocket.

A small laugh from behind her causes her to whip out one earbud and whirl around. Whatever half-retort she had in mind gets caught in her throat, because there’s Nico Minoru. At freaking Lyfeping Smoothies.

Because apparently her day could get just a little bit more off the beaten path. Oh, well. Molly’s always telling her she needs more adventure.

So because of that, or because she’s still addled from oversleeping, or because the hunger is affecting her brain, she asks, “Is my order funny?”

She meant for it to come out moderately accusatory, with just enough bite to seem cool. Instead, she sounds like a four-year-old playing at being twenty.

Nico, though, smiles. Which is a win. “Not funny. Just that it’s exactly what I thought you would order.”

Karolina feels her cheeks heat up. “Oh.”

And then she’s handed her smoothie, and she races out the door.

\---

“...and I just said ‘oh’, like an idiot, and I left.” Karolina throws her hands up in the air and sits on the edge of her bed with a defeated groan.

“It’s fine,” Molly says, a sympathetic look gracing her eyes. “Next time, you’ll be smoother.”

“Molls, there’s not going to be a next time. I have to run away and start a new life now.”  
“You’re seriously overreacting. Girls like you. You’re pretty and smart and all that. I promise you, you got this.”

“Easy for you to say,” Karolina sighs. “You and Klara have been together since you were in eleventh grade.”  
Molly smiles. “Yeah. But that’s not the point. The _point_ is that you’re going crazy over this girl who you’ve exchanged about four words with. You just gotta try again! It’ll go better this time.”

The door swings open. The afternoon light silhouettes Gert Yorkes’ short figure in the frame. “Hey,” she says, stepping in and closing the door behind her, “I heard you were crisising.”

“Oh, crisising big time,” Molly laughs. “And over nothing. Tell her she’s being dramatic.”

“You’re being dramatic, Kar. What happened?”

“I ruined things with a girl.” Karolina’s head is in her hands, so it comes out as more of a muffled mumble. 

“That goth-looking girl?”

“What other girl would it be?” Molly says.

“Thanks for your input, Molls. And yes. Nico. I acted awful to her at Lyfeping.”

Gert full-on chuckles. “First of all, I would  _ not  _ have pegged her for the type of girl who gets smoothies at Lyfeping. I know it’s not great of me to judge, but…. Anyway. Secondly. Karolina. You couldn’t be awful to anyone if you tried—and you definitely couldn’t be awful to anyone accidentally. I’m sure she took one look at your blush— _ yes _ , Karolina, I know you must have been blushing—and fell head-over-heels in love. And you’ll never know if you don’t  _ talk  _ to her. But I totally understand that you’re freaking out. Girls are scary. I promise you, though, it’s fine.”

Karolina knows that Gert’s right. Karolina knows that Gert’s been right for the past two months, urging her to make a move and say something to Nico. And Karolina knows that Molly’s right, too, that she’s just overreacting. That everything is fine. That Nico doesn’t hate her now.

Jesus. What if Nico hates her now?

_ No. _ She’s being ridiculous, and she knows it. She needs to stop, to breathe. She needs to calm the hell down and recalibrate, because one girl’s opinion of her is not life-or-death. Nico Minoru isn’t the center of the universe. She’s human. She’s fallible. She’s a regular person that Karolina just happened to fall madly in love with. She’s a little too short and a little too sharp and  _ dammit, Karolina, stop thinking about her _ .

Yeah. Everything is fine.

\---

Karolina can feel her pulse in her neck with every step she takes. Every step she takes that brings her closer to where Nico is sitting with her legs crossed and her lunch in her lap and a literal black corset on that must be cold in the almost-winter air. But that looks pretty damn good.

And that’s  _ not the point _ . It’s not the point that she looks absolutely stunning, even though her expression is set into extreme resting bitch face mode. Or that Karolina really wants to run her fingers through her hair. Or something. Whatever.

Gert talked to Chase, and they all talked to Alex, and everyone came to the consensus that Karolina’s acting mad. It’s rare for her friends to all agree on something, so she supposed they must all be right.

So here she is. And too soon, she’s standing right in front of this girl. 

She feels exposed. 

“Hi,” Karolina says, because ‘hi’ is the best place to start. “Mind if I sit?”

Nico gestures wordlessly to the space beside her, consenting.

“So, I ran into you two days ago at Lyfeping, and I feel like I… chose my words badly,” Karolina offers sheepishly. “I just want to apologize for that rudeness, and extend the proverbial olive branch, so to speak?” It’s not supposed to be a question, but it is anyway. Karolina’s holding her breath, and she doesn’t really know what for. People see Karolina as put together, but Karolina sees herself as anything but.

“Oh, I don’t think that was me. I don’t remember that, anyway. Must have been my twin sister or something.”

Karolina exhales sharply. “Ah. Sorry, this is weird. I’ll leave.”

As she moves to stand, Nico puts a hand on her thigh to stop her. “Joking. I tried to joke. Clearly not well. I don’t have a twin sister.”

“Oh,” Karolina says. “Well. I’m sorry.” She holds her hand out.

Nico takes it, slowly. Shakes it. Drops it.

“It’s fine, by the way. You weren’t being rude. Or earlier, when you were late to class.”

“Great. That’s great. I’m Karolina, Nico. You’re Nico.”  
The corner of Nico’s mouth lifts. “I know.”

They eat their lunch in silence. It’s awkward. At the same time, though, it’s nice. And as Karolina wishes her a goodbye, Nico says, “Do you want to go grab coffee with me some time?”

Karolina thinks that she’d quite like that. So she says yes.

\---

The Upper West Side is quiet. Less pricey than downtown. And still has discounts for college students, since Columbia’s up there. No one’s trying to impress anyone else on 96th street, which is a needed break from Karolina’s non-stop performance of a Californian and Lower Manhattan life. And she’s honestly a little surprised that Nico brings her to Birch Coffee on the Upper West. Nico seems to be a very showy person. She’s always decked out in black, or variations of it, with necklaces and chunky heels and her altogether threatening aura. And sometimes, her clothes border on  _ too _ showy. Not that Karolina’s complaining. But still, it’s a little out of character, she thinks, for Nico to enjoy this more relaxed, more authentic area of the city.

Then again, she doesn’t really know Nico yet, does she?

There are two jars in which she could put her tip money (Karolina always,  _ always _ tips). A small blackboard reads: WHICH OF JUPITER’S MOONS IS THE MOST MASSIVE? The jars are labeled IO and CALLISTO. After a moment of deliberation, Karolina drops seventy-six cents into the IO jar and flashes the cashier a smile. She hopes they remember her hemp milk.

After a moment, Nico drops a handful of change into the jar labeled CASTILLO, and then orders. Karolina barely registers what Nico said to the cashier--she’s too busy staring at Nico’s intricate earrings, carved into little crescent moons that look almost Gaelic. Nico pays, and they find their way to their seats. Karolina doesn’t know what to say, so she draws from the last moderately put-together thought she can remember:, “Callisto?”  
Nico smirks. “Yeah. That one’s more massive. But it isn’t the most massive. I couldn’t _not_ tip, though.”

“Not the most massive?”  
“Oh, not by a bit. Ganymede wins that one.”

Karolina feels a grin make its way across her face, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. “How’d you know that?”

Nico rolls her eyes. “Some guy I dated when I was in high school was, like, a total nerd. But I thought his love of astronomy was cool, so now I have a million useless facts memorized. Gotta love Californians and their obsession with stargazing.”

“California? No way, I grew up there too. Where were you from?”  
“Hollywood area.” Nico pulls a face, and their drinks arrive.

They remembered Karolina’s hemp milk. She’s going to come back to this place.

And then what Nico says registers with her. “Hollywood? No way. Me too. It was horrible, wasn’t it?”

Nico rolls her eyes again, with a level of drama that would impress even Gert. It is frighteningly endearing. “Yeah. Fucking horrible. And I dated this boy that literally never left the house. I mean, of all people? California may suck, but there’s good-looking people. And this guy, Wilder, he was—”

“Shut the front door.”

“The front door?”

“Shut the hell up. Happy? But did you say Wilder?”

Nico raises an eyebrow slowly, twirling her straw around her drink in a way that really shouldn’t be attractive, because how in the hell is stirring a drink attractive?  _ The point, Karolina. Get to the point. _

“Because I know a Wilder who used to live in Hollywood. Alex?”  
Nico snorts. “Yeah. He was weird as a kid, wasn’t he?”  
“So weird. You dated him? Like, seriously dated him? That’s crazy.”

Nico scoffs. “Dated as much as two high school sophomores who didn’t even go to the same school could date. Mostly we just played video games in his basement and made out. But now I know the size of Jupiter’s moons, so I think it was win overall.”  
Karolina snorts. “Totally. Well, he and I have been friends for forever. We went to high school together. And he goes to Hunter in the city. You guys could connect again.” Mentally, she slaps herself the moment the words leave her mouth.

“Hmm.” Nico pauses her drink stirring for a moment. “No. I’m happy where I am, I think. I mean, sure, I’d be friends with him again. But not be with him, or any of that. I’ve got studies to focus on.” And then she resumes, and her face is a little pink.

Iced coffee is a wonderful thing to have, even in early winter. Suddenly, though, it seems a little too cold.  _ Any of that. Studies to focus on _ . So, yes, this is a friend coffee. Is it a friend coffee? Karolina is notoriously bad with signals. She had a girl, Xavin, literally get in a fistfight for Karolina’s honour in her first year of college, and she  _ still  _ couldn’t tell that Xavin liked her. Maybe it’s a friend coffee. Maybe it’s a date. Either way, Karolina’s just happy that she’s finally getting to know Nico.

They finish their drinks, chatting about nothing and everything and whatever they want, and Nico scarfs down a chocolate donut. And friendship coffee or not, Karolina’s delighted.

But maybe not delighted enough. Because, restraint be damned, she feels her heart racing and her palms sweating and a thrumming deep in her bones. She feels a pull to Nico that she can’t shut down.

Nico’s talking, but Karolina doesn’t hear a thing. They’ve made it to the train station. The turnstyles look wavy. The platform shifts underfoot. The train ricochets down the tunnel, and Karolina’s ears feel clogged.

She kisses Nico. Right there, in the middle of the southbound one train, in the middle of that Sunday afternoon, underground and shielded from the autumn air. She kisses her, and it’s only for a moment, but she can feel her pulse in Nico’s lips and then her hands are on Nico’s back and Karolina’s heart is flying up through her head and  _ oh, this, this is what love could feel like _ .

Karolina pulls back, wiping berry-stained pigment from her lips. People are staring.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m not great with signals, so I don’t know if you—”

And then Nico pulls her in close, and the world fades away.

**—————**

It’s been one year and a day Nico broke up with Karolina. And one year since Nico officially moved out of Karolina’s place.

That’s a lot to take in. One year and a day, and a lot has happened since then.

She got another girlfriend, for maybe a week. She spent a lot of time flipping through Tinder and OKCupid and even HER. She took spin classes, just for the hell of it, and because what else would a Lower East Side twenty-something-year-old resident do? She started wearing less black. She stopped putting on eyeliner every single day. She found that she loved to write.

She kept in touch with Gert and Chase and Alex and Molly (and Klara, by extension), which is the most important thing, in her opinion. She’s friends with them. She’s still close with them, and she loves them. She’s opened up to them more in the past year.

Which, she’ll admit, is scary as hell. Yeah. Vulnerability isn’t always her strong suit, leaving angry outbursts aside.

So she’s grown, she supposes. She’s grown.

She misses her, sometimes. Misses her like hell. It’s been a year since she moved out. Tomorrow, it’ll be five years since their first date. And she’d be lying if she say she doesn’t miss Karolina. The way she smiled, the way she shone. The way she kissed, and always pulled back breathing heavy. The way she held Nico when she let down her walls and cried. The way she told her that everything would be alright.

The way she said  _ I love you _ . The way she promised they’d last forever.

They didn’t.

Of course they didn’t. Life isn’t a storybook, and it isn’t a fucking fairytale picnic. Nico broke up with Karolina a year and a day ago, and yeah, she misses her. But she’s moved on.

\---

Birch Coffee has been a staple in Nico’s life since she first started at NYU. Their iced chai lattes are to die for, and so are their chocolate donuts. She goes there practically every day, and the baristas know her by name. Not her real name, though. Nico never uses her real name when ordering. So one day she said her name was Amy, and then the next day the same cashier remembered, and she’s been too embarrassed to correct them. She’s been Amy for approaching three years, at this point.

Gert would tell her to correct them, if it bothers her so much. But then again, Gert can barely ask for extra ketchup without verging on tears, so her opinion means nothing in this instance.

Iced chai and a chocolate donut. Her usual seat. Nova and the Experience plays a little too loud in her left ear (the right earbud’s been broken for a week now). She’s happy. Content.

She goes through her to-do list in her head. Pick up her laundry from the landromat. Buy a new tube of lipstick. Check to see if any agents have replied to her query letters. Look at how the stars are doing out in California. Drop off a housewarming gift at Molly and Klara’s. Nag Chase about when he’s going to pop the question. Nag him again. Draft another chapter. Text Alex about the weird new Undertale sequel. Get another pair of shoes, because dammit, she deserves another pair of shoes.

She needs to be a bit more frugal. Her parents won’t send her financial aid forever. But she’s happy, and when she’s happy, Nico Minoru buys shoes.

So, shoes. And her friends. And she has to take Old Lace on a walk. Old Lace loves it when Nico walks her, because Nico makes sure to avoid TriBeCa like her life depends on it. Honestly, it might. Karolina’s stronger than one would think, and she probably wouldn’t hesitate to dropkick Nico if she saw her ex walking around her neighbourhood. So Nico takes Old Lace anywhere but there. It changes every time, which drives Old Lace crazy, but in the best possible way. Gert and Chase are so routine with her.

At some point, the ice in her cup melted, leaving her with a desolate concoction of watered-down spices and a shot of espressso. The donut feels stale in her hands.

She gets up without clearing her place and leaves, feeling a pressure at the back of her eyes.

It’s a little too cold for late fall, and the wind bites at her face brutally. She shivers. She’s far too underdressed for this weather, and it’s two avenues back to the train station. She contemplates hailing a cab for just a second before slapping herself mentally at how un-environmentally-friendly that would be. You can take the vegan girlfriend out of Nico’s life, but you can’t take Nico’s life out of vegan environmental morals.

No cab (plus, she doesn’t have the money for it, if she wants to buy those shoes), no scarf, and seemingly no hope. That’s over the top, but Nico’s known to be a little bit dramatic. When circumstances call for it. And right now, they certainly do.

She wants to get herself home. Her feet drag with exhaustion, and the sound of her boots scraping the pavement repeatedly is starting to bore into her skull. She’s really tired.

Instead, though, she treks it over to the one and goes uptown. Molly and Klara live in the in-between of the Heights and Harlem, and the just moved from one apartment to another. Nico’s bag holds some scented candles and a succulent. Klara loves plants, and Molly has a secret thing for making her house as typically aesthetic as it can be.

Elevator’s out of commission, so she hauls herself up the stairs, groaning with each step she takes. The bag weighs like lead on her shoulder, but finally, she reaches floor seven, walks down the hallway, and knocks on the door.

Molly opens it, her eyes bright and her lips kiss-swollen and her hair a disheveled mess. “Sorry,” she says, by way of a welcome. “We were just…”

“Celebrating our new apartment,” Klara pipes up helpfully from some unseen room, and Nico stiffles a laugh.

“Well, then, I really don’t want to intrude. But I got these for you.” She holds out the candles and the succulents, and Molly squeals—honestly  _ squeals _ —her thanks. 

Sometimes, Nico thinks, it’s hard to see Molly as anything other than a scrappy pre-teen who got into fights too quick and matured up even quicker. It pains her, just a bit, to see her standing an inch taller than Nico herself, and probably yards more put-together. It doesn’t seem right.

But that’s growing up, isn’t it? Nico doesn’t like it one bit.

“Enjoy your new house.” And Molly smiles in response, a soft, guarded thing. She loves Klara. It’s plain to see.

Hell. Now Nico’s hurting all over again. So she closes the door fast, not letting Molly say goodbye, and fights back tears.

It’s a long journey back home. She falls asleep the minute her head hits the pillow.

\---

A while later, she wakes up. The clock reads 7:40 at her, and she groans, because it’s Tuesday, and Tuesdays are when she eats early to go to sleep early. She hasn’t done a solid eighty percent of what she planned to do today. But nevertheless, Nico drags herself out of bed and into the small kitchen. She sticks to her routine.

Eggs, because she’s feeling lazy, and can’t be bothered to cook anything more. Eggs on toast, with way too much cayenne pepper dumped atop. Her mouth burns as she eats, but it’s the best type of burn. Her nose runs. She’s done eating before she even started.

Her watch says that it’s 8:07 now. She has time to watch an episode of TV before calling it a night. So she puts on an episode of Buffy and settles in.

And, of course, she flipped subconsciously to possibly the saddest episode there is. Which also contains Willow and Tara’s first kiss. Because death and witchery and lesbianism are always at the back of Nico’s mind, no matter how much she’d rather they not be. And sooner or later, she can’t even hear Anya’s incredible breakdown, because Karolina’s infiltrated her thoughts.

It always comes back to Karolina, doesn’t it? They were destined to meet from the beginning. They had a mutual friend, and semi-corresponding schedules, and they always got smoothies from the same lame-ass hipster place right off campus. Hell, they had the same fucking major. Not that either of them do anything Anthropology and Linguistics-related now. Or, at least, Nico certainly doesn’t. She’s an aspiring writer with about five thousand circulating part-time jobs to keep her head above a sea of debt. She has no idea what Karolina’s up to now. Probably something amazing.

Jesus. Nico really is a sap, isn’t she? She berates herself for this weakness. She was doing fine; she was happy. She doesn’t need to start feeling regret over a girl she dumped a year ago, and a girl she fell out of love with a year and then some ago. She’s happy watching Joyce Summers’ cold face being cried over by Dawn Summers, sitting on her couch in her already-slept-in clothing.

She wants to go to confessional. Things have been weighing on her a little too heavily recently, and that hurts.

She really was doing so well.

\---

Nico can’t get to sleep.

It’s nothing and it’s everything and it’s anything at all, rushing through her head, spiraling down and up and circling back around. Her thoughts are loud, but she’s not sure what they are. Are they even thoughts, or are they just crushing emotions? Deafening, even. There’s a hand over her mouth and she can’t breathe now. She can’t breathe. Her shoulders tense. Her fingers twitch and she  _ still can’t breathe _ . When did it get this hard to just inhale, hold, and exhale? Nothing helps—white noise doesn’t help, shifting around until half her limbs are numb and the other half ache doesn’t help, and she still can’t fucking breathe. Tears spring into her eyes, unbidden, because suddenly she doesn’t want to die and she knows she’s overreacting but her chest is tight and she feels like suddenly her lungs are just going to explode from inside of her.

_ Pause. _

_ In. Out. _

_ One. Two. _

_ Relax. Close your eyes. Count to ten. Deep breaths. In, out. One two three. Relax, Nico, relax. _

It’s Karolina’s voice in her head. Because of course it’s Karolina’s  _ fucking  _ voice in Nico’s  _ fucking  _ head when she just can’t  _ fucking sleep.  _ She needs to sleep. She needs to close her eyes and fall back into her pillow and blot out her vision and fall blissfully asleep. And when she wakes in the morning, she’ll put on her clothes and her shoes and her makeup, and she’ll make breakfast and brush her teeth and her hair. And then she’ll go out, lock up behind herself, and go to Gert and Chase’s. She’ll walk Old Lace. She’ll get a coffee from Birch, maybe, if she feels like trekking up to the Upper West Side. She’ll check her inbox from responses from prospective agents; she probably won’t get anything but rejections. It’s alright, though. She’ll try again. She thinks she has a babysitting gig tomorrow, which is good, because the pumps she bought today were a little pricier than anticipated.

She needs to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and tomorrow, she can forget about Karolina all over again.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she  _ will  _ forget about Karolina all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to lesbinej aka lauren for beta-ing this chapter I would be bereft without you. Kudos/Comments always loved :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos/Comments always appreciated :)


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